


Fortune

by Okadiah



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alien April, JediFest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 16:57:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14085450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okadiah/pseuds/Okadiah
Summary: Written for JediFest's Alien April 2018 Exchange for the prompt: Janus Kasmir "Fortune"Janus Kasmir considers the value of fortune, and what it means for him since a certain baby Jedi won't leave him alone.





	Fortune

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NightFell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightFell/gifts).



> There is never enough Janus Kasmir. Never. Thanks NightFell for putting this on your prompt list. You know I couldn't resist and I hope you enjoy ;]

The guiding principles of life and living, when it came right down to it, were easy. They didn’t need all those lofty morals the Jedi preached in their sheltered temple. They didn’t need the overwhelming power that came with the headaches and elaborate games of politics. Life and living, as far as Janus Kasmir was concerned, needed _one thing_.

Fortune.

Personally, he liked to keep what fortune meant to him largely ambiguous, but if someone said it was about the money, well, he wouldn’t ever say it was a bad answer. Money paved the way and smoothed the rough parts of life out. Money was good. No, money was _great_. And like all the smart ones in the galaxy, Kasmir knew money was exactly where one should put his sights if he wanted anything, and to hell with everything else.

But there was a deeper aspect to fortune Kasmir valued even more. Although money could get him damn near anywhere, it wasn’t _why_ he struggled to make it. It wasn’t what drove him out of his bunk every day and through the vacuum of space risking life and limb and the _Kasmiri’s_ beautiful coat of red paint. Money wasn’t _it_.

No. Fortune — true fortune — was simpler still.

Fortune was the pound of his heart in his chest as he avoided a close call. Fortune was the buzz in his blood when he swindled a crook into an incredible deal, or performed a brilliant escape after said crook figured it out and tried to kill him. Fortune was dropping into his bunk every night with a satisfied grin for a day well lived, free to do what he wanted, however he wanted.

And though Kasmir hadn’t realized it at the time with a troublemaking Jedi brat shoving food in his mouth like an animal, stinking up his ‘fresher for what must have been his first cleaning in _weeks_ , taking his spare bunk, then _stealing_ his beloved _Kasmiri_ … it was fortune too. His _exact_ brand of fortune, because although the kid was annoying, naïve, an utter _idiot_ , Kasmir saw a glimmer of himself in Caleb Dume.

Yeah, sure. It was buried thick under a layer of all that do-gooding nonsense the Jedi spoon-fed their younglings, but when Kasmir thought of Jedi, he thought of solitary, emotionless monks with impossible powers. Never a rise out of them no matter what happened, and yet able to turn the tides or war. If they could be bothered of course.

Caleb Dume was nothing like that. He was energy. Action. Confrontation. Scrappy grit with a quick mind, even if it got him into headache-inducing amounts of trouble. Didn’t matter that he was just a kid, Caleb was the exact opposite of what Kasmir thought a Jedi was, always itching to take action. To move. To _do._

Kasmir wasn’t sure he believed all the esoteric poodoo of the Jedi. That the Force was everywhere and in everything or some garbage like that. He only believed it existed because he’d seen the Jedi in action. Clearly, they had access to something. But that it guided everything? That _it_ was in control of all life, and had been since the beginning? Please.

But if it was, he had to admit the series of events which led him to Caleb Dume after the Jedi had been slaughtered were beyond coincidental. That the way the kid behaved was too distinct for him to ignore.

That the heart on that boy was just enough to tug at his own. _Just_ enough.

And that was why he was going back to save the brat after he’d sold him out to save his own neck. Kasmir _knew_ it was stupid. Caleb Dume was nothing but trouble, and would bring him nothing but trouble too. He could kiss any money he’d make in the future goodbye because most of it would undoubtedly go toward keeping them alive. Taking the baby Jedi in was a bad idea.

But Kasmir had learned long ago that fortune was like this sometimes. And if a life of fortune was what he wanted — and it sure as hell was — then the deal was already made. Stupid or not, he was doing it. The Kalleran could only grin when he saw the kid sulking in his cell, unaware that freedom was coming and its name was Janus Kasmir. That fortune had come for them both.

“Psst! Kid!” he whispered through the bars, taking in Caleb’s surprise, disbelief, suspicion, and above all, the quick flash of hope. Kasmir smirked. Oh, this was going to be good. “Ready to go?”

And they went.


End file.
